Not Your Average Birthday Present.....

Happy birthday to me! A weekend filled with golf, baseball, cycling, and gymnastics. It just doesn't get much better than this.

Hubby asked a couple of weeks ago what I wanted for my birthday. I had anticipated the question, but I still hadn't been able to come up with anything. We don't try to surprise each other, and gift buying is a challenge because A) we don't really NEED anything; and B) we tend to buy whatever we want when we want it. It's one of the perks of being a grown-up.

I thought of something yesterday, though, and it's the kind of thing he might get in trouble for if I didn't specifically request it.

I told him I wanted some sessions with a personal trainer at our local YMCA. I know, right?

I hit a plateau in my weight loss last year, and what I thought was a temporary stall has turned out to be nine months in duration. I eat right (mostly), I gave up beer and chocolate, I not only exercise but I LIKE it, so I'm more than a little frustrated with my loooooooooooooooong-term lack of additional progress. I did manage to lose 35 pounds, so maybe this is where my body thinks it SHOULD be. But I'd like to lose another 15 pounds (20 if I count the 5 that have crept back on...grrrrrrrrrrr), so I know I have to try something different.

I have read about the benefits of weight training and yoga, but I've only put them into practice sporadically. I've just about stopped going to Zumba because I've been cycling so much, and maybe I need that variety. I'm hoping a personal trainer can give me some pointers about how to mix things up without cutting back on my cycling. Because that isn't just exercise for me; it's who I am.

I got on the website for our local "Y" and found that I could purchase 3 one-hour sessions with a personal trainer for $100. That sounded reasonable to me, but since I wasn't going to be paying for it, I asked Hubby if I was worth that much. He texted back: "Get a year." I couldn't decide if he was saying I was worth that much or if he thought I might need a year. Let's go with the former, as it sounds like he was trying to be sweet. (He says that was his intent. He's at least smart enough to fake it if he has to.)

I kept scrolling on the page for the "Y" and it got even better. For the same $100, I can sign up for a "12 Weeks to a Better You" program. (I'm not sure they know what they're up against.) Here's what the website says:

Great program for beginning exercisers or those starting back slowly after a long break. Your 12 week program includes:

• 12 weeks of personal attention and motivation from a personal trainer
• 4 1-hour sessions with a personal trainer
• Gradual, baby steps into your fitness program
• A better chance that exercise will become a habit
• $100 fee (members only) - register at the front desk

This is sort of like the Team Lean competition I was in last year, only on an individual basis. It's one more one-hour session with a personal trainer, and I'm assuming there will be weekly check-ins and probably weigh-ins. I don't mind that; in fact, the accountability is often what keeps me on track.

I'm a little concerned about the wording, though. I'm not a beginning exerciser, and I'm not starting back slowly after a long break. I don't need gradual baby steps; I need a jump-start. Surely they can tailor the program to meet my needs too. I don't think I can pretend that I don't exercise at all.

I'm actually excited about the program. Hubby gave me a birthday card with the money for the 12-week program enclosed. I'd better go sign up for it soon, or I may chicken out and buy $100 worth of beer and chocolate.

Educated Doesn't Necessarily Mean Smart......

I was all psyched up to go to water aerobics again today. I thoroughly enjoyed it last Wednesday, and after only four more days and a 23-mile bicycle ride, my calves finally quit screaming. I emailed my friend yesterday sort of apologizing for not swimming on Monday, but she said there was some problem with the pool pump and it was closed anyway.

Today I dressed in my swimsuit and put sweatpants and a sweatshirt on top of it. I packed two towels, a bottle of water, and my iPhone, and I put on flip flops. I didn't want to be the nerd walking around the pool in tennis shoes again this week.

I KNEW in the back of my mind there was a possibility that the pool was still out of commission. The SMART thing to do would have been to pack ADDITIONAL work-out clothes, like sneakers and yoga pants. Or even shorts.

But no. I didn't do the smart thing. There I was at the "Y" in a swimsuit with no pool. Lots of classes and machines, but no proper attire.

So I came home and played Mario Brothers on the Wii. At least my thumbs got a workout. And I guarantee my heart rate was elevated.

Duh me.

To Members of the 6:30 Spin Class......

Dear Spinners:

Do you think we haven't seen you scowling in the door during the final minutes of our line dancing class on Monday nights?

Yeah, I'm talking to you.

Your expressions fairly shout, "They call THAT exercise?" I think I've even caught a couple of you rolling your eyes at one another. You huddle outside the door, peering in the window impatiently every couple of minutes, waving your towels and your water bottles and stretching every now and then.

Tonight we get word that we have to end our class five minutes early so you can line your little trikes up. Excuse me, but are you MORE entitled to your sixty minutes than we are? We pay the same dues. We had 17 in our line dancing class tonight. How many of you spinners showed up? It was almost a moot point, because I had the opportunity to run over your skinny little instructor in the parking lot. I still owe her one for that last step aerobics class of hers that I went to. Emphasis on last.

I know for certain that we don't burn nearly the number of calories that you do.

But how about we do this:

You wear your little spandex size twos and haul your pretend bicycles to a country and western bar somewhere near Atlanta, and we'll see who comes out of there alive.

Boot scoot boogie this.

Bragger

Houston, We Have a Problem....

Seven people on treadmills today (I tried the elliptical and LOVED it).

Three of them were watching the Food Network.

I think we may be getting to the root of the problem.

Treadmill Woes....

Naturally right after I went on this latest exercise kick my treadmill went on the fritz. I'm sure the motor is probably caked with dust from all the months I HAVEN'T used it, but now of course I am all determined to have it fixed. I mean, if you have something like that you want it to work, even if you never use it. You want it to be functional JUST IN CASE. Things are just supposed to work. Like the pepper grinder I bought hubby for his birthday. But never mind about THAT.

During Christmas break I used the treadmill twice for an hour each. Trying to make up for the past few years that I haven't used it, I guess. (Side note: I haven't been slovenly or completely sedentary during those years. Hubby just wouldn't let me put the treadmill back on the new hardwood floors. So I have been forced to walk in the park. Even when it's cold.)

The second time I used it, the motor cut off and the display went blank after an hour. I figured it was just exhausted, and never mind that I wasn't finished watching Chicago. The next time I tried to use it, it cut off after about 30 minutes. The next time it was 15. I found a little reset button (fuse?) on the front of the treadmill, and I discovered that I could reset it and make it run for a little while longer. Then it cut off after a shorter and shorter period of time, and after a while it started reaching out to smack me on the hand, as if to say, "Look stupid, I'm shutting off because there's something WRONG! Don't you get it?" So I decided having a repairman come to the house was cheaper and better than having a fireman come to the house.

But that left me with no way to exercise on the days when it was raining or the two days when we couldn't go to the state park across from our house because they were having a DEER HUNT for God's sake. So I was forced to start going back to the YMCA, where I have been cheerfully sending my monthly payment for the past few months that we haven't gone. Well, I haven't actually been SENDING it. They just suck it out of my bank account on the first of every month. But I digress. As usual.

The Y has these state-of-the-art treadmills that do all these calculations and simulate hills and have a fan that would actually help cool you off while you're walking, if you were taller than say 5'2". In which case the fan helps keep the air directly above your head nice and cool. How sweet of them.

These treadmills also have televisions on them, and I was smart enough to take my headphones so I could watch while I walked. Only I wasn't smart enough to get on a treadmill where the television actually worked. I watched the snowy screen for a while, and since there was no "off" switch, I was forced to plug in my MP3 player. That still helped the time pass more quickly, except I was sure that the other walkers (and runners, those people I love to hate) were cutting their eyes in my direction and feeling sorry for me because my television didn't work. Then I dropped my MP3 player onto the treadmill belt, and it was promptly launched into the shins of the person behind me. Not really, but a girl did stop to pick it up from the floor behind me. Luckily I remembered to step off the moving belt while she handed it to me.

The next time I went to the Y to use their treadmills, I made sure I checked for a working television screen before commencing my walk. Don't call ME a slow learner. I'm figuring this thing out. So I started walking, headphones in place, scrolling through the channels. Only the SOUND didn't work. Once again, I plugged in my MP3 player, but I pretended that I was watching the television. I even chuckled once in a while to convince the people around me that I was indeed lucky enough to have a working television. I just hope they didn't notice that my headphones were not indeed plugged into the treadmill.

I promise there's a point to all this blather. And here it comes: What is the etiquette regarding complaining to the attendant on duty that the television on my treadmill didn't work? Or the sound didn't work? I'm trying to picture myself in that position. Like Jesse, the girl who works in the fitness room. She works another full-time job, and then she comes to the Y to help out and be a fitness coach and answer questions from people like me who are too dumb to figure out some of the equipment. If I were Jesse and someone came to me because the television wouldn't work on his or her treadmill, I think I would put my hands on my hips and say in my most sarcastic tone, "Oh, you came here to WATCH TELEVISION. I'll get right on that for you."

Jesse's much nicer than I am. Still, I'm not taking any chances. I'll just keep pretending, and maybe once in a while I'll luck up and get a treadmill with a working television AND sound.